


Come Back to Me

by thedisturberofthepeace



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, franz marc, hemingway style mimic, two women on the hillside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 15:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1231042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedisturberofthepeace/pseuds/thedisturberofthepeace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An original piece I wrote for Creative Comp. Mimic of Hemingway's style, inspired by this Franz Marc painting: https://cdn2-7.cdn.schoology.com/system/files/imagecache/attachment_image_thumb/attachments/files/m/201402/course/72001283/Franz_Marc_030_52f7f4cb70d88.jpg</p><p>An artist uses his wife and her friend as muses for a painting and watches his wife grow distant to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Back to Me

A man sits in front of his canvas. The painting is nothing more than a collection of base paints but as the afternoon drifts on the image coats itself over wan space. Every so often he lifts his head above to study his subjects, hunches back down and meticulously chooses his next hue before bringing soft bristles to taunt canvas.

With each gust of wind the man listens to the breeze of hushed conversation between his wife and her friend that flits by his ear. Their furtive whispers are beyond deciphering. Her friend reaches for her arm. She turns away from her husband tittering like a canary in the midst of its morning song.

"Come back to me," he insists. And she returns to her pose with the remnants of a smile on her full lips.

"Sorry, Dearest. I'd forgotten we were muses for a moment".

Her friend gives a dramatic sigh and sinks lower into her palm.

"Are you almost finished? It's been quite a while and my limbs feel like stones". He feels offended. It hasn't been so long. The afternoon is still fresh. But his wife merely offers another small fit of giggles. He stares at her incredulously. The brush in his hand feels impossibly heavy. It's weight drags his hand down and snaps him from his astonishment.

"I'll only be another minute." he says. Her friend sighs again and they go back to their quiet chatting.

"What are you mouthing about now?" he complains testily.

"Nothing you want to discuss," his wife answers. She doesn't turn her head towards him.

"How do you know that?"

"I know you. Besides, you wouldn't understand, anyway" she waves him off and he dips his brush in a flagrant red. The final stroke of the artwork.

"Finished" he says.

"Finally!" her friend exclaims. His wife steps around him and peers down at the painting.

"It's beautiful, dearest". She smiles faintly. She looks through the paint as if it isn't there.

The man packs his materials and follows behind the women as they stroll lightly down the country path. He watches as their dresses flutter about their ankles and begins to realize that he's fallen behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Critics or comments would be great! Let me know how I'm doing at mimicking someone else's style (as that's what we're working on in class).


End file.
